


Seeing the Future is a Terrible Curse

by FeatherWriter



Category: Cosmere - Brandon Sanderson, Stormlight Archive
Genre: Forced to kill, I am so bad at tagging fics ugh, Kalarin, M/M, Present Tense, sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-03 02:04:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1727141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeatherWriter/pseuds/FeatherWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A writing challenge presented by 17th Shard, turning protagonists into antagonists. This is a take on Renarin becoming an antagonist, post-Words of Radiance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seeing the Future is a Terrible Curse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kogiopsis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kogiopsis/gifts).



The ardents were correct: seeing the future is a terrible curse. Renarin has learned to be alone when the highstorm hits. His father always preferred to have those close to him help keep him from hurting himself when his visions came, but Renarin’s visions are those best suffered alone. Dalinar was not aware of himself when he saw the messages from the Almighty; he left his body behind.

Renarin was always trapped, horribly aware as the control of his body was taken from him.

He screams as the vision takes him, collapsing to the floor, his fingers seeking out the charcoal in his pocket. He learned to always carry something with which to write. The broken fingernails and blood-streaked fingers had taught him quickly that when the visions came, the glyphs would be written one way or another.

He suffers through it, enduring the terrible images of what is to come, praying to the Almighty to release him from this horrible nightmare. His hands move of their own accord, scrawling glyphs into the floor. He feels tears run down his face but cannot do anything to wipe them away. It will be over soon, he hopes. He prays. But in the moment, it seems endless.

Those images, those horrible truths he is forced to watch. They cannot be real. This cannot be the future. And yet, he knows with more certainty than he knows his own name that the things he sees _will_ come to pass.

Kaladin comes to find him after the storm passes and the vision fades. The former bridgeman rushes over as he finds Renarin trembling on the floor, clutching his head. The charcoal piece has been flung as far as possible from him, his first action after regaining control of himself. As Kaladin draws near however, Renarin cries out, trying to push himself away.

“Renarin,” Kaladin says carefully. “The storm is passed. Are you still in a vision?”

Renarin can only shake his head, still trying to put distance between himself and Kaladin, but feeling too weak to get away. _He’s going to see, he’s going to know, it’s going to happen…_

Kaladin hesitates, not wanting to upset him, then sees the glyphs laid out in shaky handwriting around the shaking prince. _Bridge Four, Leader, Death. Bridge Four, Leader, Death. Bridge Four, Leader, Death._

“Is this… me?” Kaladin asks carefully, taking another slow step forward. He knows Renarin isn’t in a vision anymore, but something is terribly wrong, and it’s Kaladin’s job to help make it right.

Renarin can only nod before loses control of himself for the second time in one hour, this time to sobs rather than images. At some point he realizes Kaladin’s arms are around him, his hands rubbing smooth, calming circles on Renarin’s back.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Kaladin says again and again, and though Renarin knows they aren’t true, they help. He doesn’t know what is happening exactly. Is Kaladin his bodyguard, and he the lighteyed prince? Is Kaladin his superior officer, and he a still-new member of Bridge Four? Are they peers, two Knights Radiant of equal standing? Or have they reached the point where the roles and ranks and rules no longer even matter?

“It’s me,” Renarin whispers, still holding on to Kaladin like a lifeline in the storm. “It has to be me.”

Kaladin stiffens, though to his credit, he doesn’t let go. His voice catches slightly as he asks, “Are you sure? Is there any other way?”

Renarin shakes his head slightly. “If I don’t… all is lost. Everything, Kaladin.”

The two stay silent for a while, before Kaladin finds his voice again. “When?”

“I don’t know,” Renarin mumbles. “Soon. Maybe a few weeks.”

Kaladin considers that for a moment, and Renarin isn’t entirely sure how he will react. Will he be mad? Try to stop Renarin from going through with it? Will he try to kill Renarin before it could happen?

“The others will blame you,” Kaladin says, sounding somewhat distant. Focusing on what would happen to Renarin afterward as a way to avoid thinking about it, perhaps. “You might have to run away. They might chase after you.”

“They will,” Renarin says hollowly. “I saw that too.”

\---

He knows as soon as the moment comes. A sick lurching sense of _déjà vu_ overtakes him. It’s like watching a stormwall out on a flat plain. Nowhere to hide, no way to fight back. Nothing to do as that inevitable destruction bears closer until it is upon you. They’re in the midst of a small fight, nothing Bridge Four and the Kholin shardbearers can’t handle, but Renarin _knows._

He steps back, pulling himself away from the fighting. “K-kaladin!” His voice breaks over the name.

Kaladin turns toward him, looking to see if he’s been hurt or something, but the look on Renarin’s face tells him enough. For once, Renarin wishes Kaladin isn’t the one who can always understand him. The weight of understanding settling across Kaladin’s expression seems almost more painful than the idea of what is about to happen.

Renarin finds that he’s holding a knife. He doesn’t remember picking it up but he must have sometime in the battle. In a way he’s thankful for that. This way he doesn’t have to force Glys to be a part of this. His hand trebles as he looks down, the lights reflecting off the blade shaking and flashing.

Kaladin calls for the men to hold the line as he steps out as well, letting Adolin take over command. Renarin’s brother looks back to see if they need him as well, but Kaladin waves him back. As Kaladin approaches, Renarin takes a step back, wanting to throw the knife as far from himself, wanting to tell Kaladin to run away, knowing that if he does, all will be lost. He’s seen what will happen, he knows there’s no way out. Everything is happening exactly as he saw.

“It’s now?” Kaladin asks quietly.

Renarin nods.

“There’s no other way?”

Renarin shakes his head. Something wet slides down his cheek as he does so. “Kaladin, I can’t. I can’t do this…”

Kaladin takes hold of his wrist, stilling the knife’s trembling. “You’ve already said you have to. I’m not afraid to die, Renarin. If the choice is between me and the world, I know which choice I would pick.”

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do,” Kaladin says. “We both do.” He raises Renarin’s hand, placing the knife right above the embroidered crest on his uniform. “Right here. Push straight in, right between the ribs and to the heart, then pull it back out. It’ll be quick. I’ll barely feel it. Take my stormlight, you’ll need it to run.”

Renarin can feel the moment press closer and closer. When he hesitates, Kaladin pinches his arm sharply, and Renarin reflexively gasps, pulling in the stormlight Kaladin was carrying.

Adolin notices them, sees Renarin holding a knife to Kaladin’s chest. “Renarin! What are you— 

The moment hits. His grip tightens on the knife as he feels the choice he needs to make. Kaladin nods, just once.

The knife goes in.


End file.
